Forever Yellow Skies
by RibaBian
Summary: Kyle and Cartman are brothers? Butters is pregnant? Damien is scheming? And Kenny wants to get away from it all... Better than it sounds. -DISCONTINUED- Style, Cutters, Dip. Slight Bunny, Datters, K2. Plz R
1. Welcome to South Park

I don't OWNZR South Park…I wish I were that brilliant….

**LOLOLLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL.**

"N-No way! I-I'd get grounded if I d-did that!" The platinum blonde argued, shaking his head vigorously.

When Damien had first pulled him aside asking for a favor he'd been shocked, of course. Butters'd just been walking through the park on the short road toward home with two of the three friends he had, Pip and Tweek, when he'd pulled him aside. Dougie couldn't tag along seeing as he had Mu Alpha Theta Club after school, so it was just the three of them. Damien had always been more of a recluse and asking for favors wasn't really his thing, especially when it came to something so…heinous.

"Oh, c'mon… who else am I supposed to get to do it? You're perfect."

"A woman." The blonde's British companion interjected, immediately blanching when he saw the glare the malevolent devil's spawn shot at him.

"That'd be awful Christian of me and God is well aware that's the opposite of my intentions." Damien shrugged, "Besides, it'd just be a few months, and if you decline I can always just hold you against your will."

The other blonde at the table finally spoke up, twitching uncontrollably with his never-ceasing anxiety, "Agh! That's a lot o-of p-pressure-ah-Leo!" Pip and Tweek were the only ones who called Butters by his real name, 'Leopold', though usually they just shortened it to 'Leo', and he and Tweek were the only ones to call Pip by his real name as well, 'Phillip'.

Damien rolled his eyes, "Listen, I'm not giving you much of a choice. Your innocence makes you ideal for the part. I don't want the child growing out of my immediate control, and you're practically a woman anyways, so no one will give you a second glance."

Butters blushed at the comment though he knew it was true. He had always been rather feminine, though he detested it with a passion. He'd tried just about everything to give the illusion that he was at least somewhat more masculine than he seemed, but his constant fervor was to no avail when pertaining to his circumstance.

"I-"

"Hold on, your voice is making my head pound," Damien riffled though his rather large pockets and pulled out a small ovular case, similar to one that might be used to hold glasses only thinner and longer. He set it off to the side from his perch on the ground then pulled some ear plugs out of his pocket and roughly shoved them in his ears. Damien picked up the mysterious case again, flicking it open to reveal an injection needle, large and painfully thick looking.

"Wh-what's th-that for?" Butters asked hesitantly. He really didn't want to know, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"What? This?" Damien asked feigning a non-existent innocence made obviously artificial by the wide smirk that was plastered across his face causing Butters to shudder.

"Ho-"

"I can read lips; I just don't feel like hearing your screams when I plunge this mercilessly into your cute little veins." The aspiring devil grabbed his wrist tightly.

Butters wasn't quite sure how veins could be 'cute', but he didn't want to dwell on it. He shut his eyes tight preparing for the pain he was sure was yet to come.

"W-wait!" A stammering voice broke the silence, "This-agh-is totally insane!" Tweek forced, nearly ripping out his hair as he nervously tugged on it, "how can you-agh- expect Butters t-to-uh- carry a child for you? He's a male!"

Damien sighed, clearly annoyed at what he considered a stupid question, "It's a simple process really…I inject Stotch here with this serum, which will then prepare his body for the conception and subsequent birth of my future heir, "He gave the liquid a little squirt to demonstrate, "depending on how long it takes his body to adjust depends on when my seed will be planted. Of course seeing as the changes will be mainly internal you won't develop any outer feminine part that would discharge the child so it will have to be cut out of you manually…"

"C-cut out?" Butters gasped, trying to pull his arm away from the stronger boy unsuccessfully, "Oh gee Damien, I-I'm not so sure about all this. C-couldn't you f-find somebody else."

"I've already made up my mind! So just keep your mouth shut!" He dug the needle into his arm injecting the fluid.

Butters bit his lip in a failed attempt not to cry out in pain of the thick spike piercing his sensitive flesh. A short squeal escaped his throat then it was all over and Damien was stalking away, sealing his fate as a vessel toward birthing his future demon child.

A bastard child.

**.**

The flaxen-haired boy suddenly felt faint, the world fading around him as the shot started to take its first effects. He could barely hear his friend's concerned cries as he slipped away from the world of consciousness…

Kenny puffed half-heartedly at a stub of a cigarette, not wanting to waste any of the precious tobacco knowing it could be weeks before he would get another pack to tide him off. The cold of the football stadium benches seeped though his pants nearly freezing his ass off, but he couldn't have given two shits less. He gazed on wistfully as a few burning flecks of nicotine floated off into the cool afternoon breeze, fading from smoldering shades of red and orange to dull ashy grays and browns.

The ill-fated teen watched forlornly the track team as they made what must have been their umpteenth lap around the track. It reminded him that some people were actually successful in life. It reminded him so of his downfall in his never ending spiral towards addiction.

Addiction.

Addiction to sex. To criminal behavior. To the feeble, diminutive attempts of this drug that so casually hung between his fingertips to calm his ever-sweltering need for substance that he could never attain.

Kenny was mostly here for Kyle. Mostly. Not that they ever really talked, it was just another nagging addiction to stalk that got him. Kenny started to laugh at the thought, but ended coughing from the mixture of smoke and ice in his blackening lungs.

The Jew had been acting uncharacteristically distant recently. Or so he'd heard from Stan…over and over and over again. He longingly contemplated the times they'd had when they were young. When life wasn't so hard and social status wasn't so important. Back in eighth grade he was almost sure that Stan and Kyle would have stopped being so close, as the rest of them had, after another one of their fights over the jock's on-and-off girlfriend or rather 'girl fiend' Wendy. It was a huge fight, fists and all… and Stan hadn't dated Wendy since. Yep. Super cool football player Stanley Marsh had given up his super hot, bangin', girlfriend Wendy Testaburger for super nerdy, day walker, Jew Kyle Broflovski.

Obviously immediately subsequent to said events rumors spread like uncontrollable wildfire of the Super Best Friends' alleged affair as the real cause to the 'perfect couple's' separation. Kenny couldn't really care less if the two were bumping uglies or not, although if he had to take a guess he wouldn't bet against it…

Anyways, he wasn't here to reminisce. In fact, he wasn't quite sure why exactly he was here. Probably just to talk some damn sense into Kyle, or at least get him to talk to Stan about what was bothering him seeing as he obviously wasn't going to tell him. Kenny and Stan had remained somewhat friends after the group had gone their separate ways, mostly because they were within the same cliques. Stan for his athleticism, football, and good looks, and Kenny because of black-mail, sex, and overall partying…and his own good looks if he should say so himself.

Kenny stood from the metal bench he'd sat as for the last -God knows how long- and started towards his target. "Hey Broflovski!" He smiled half cheerfully.

"McCormick." Kyle responded warily, shifting his insinuating gaze toward the death stick he'd forgotten he still held in his hand.

He swiftly tossed it to the side, giving it a quick stomp before trailing after the red-head again, "Don't be like that Ky! C'mon, we used to be so tight, me and you…remember?"

"No. Who gave you permission to call me that?"

Kenny smirked, "Stan."

Kyle flushed, seemingly irked by the silent accusation, "Listen, I don't feel like putting up with your shit right now!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"And why not?" Kenny asked slyly, "Something wrong in your perfect little life Jew-boy?"

He glared impatiently, "Fuck you, Kenny! You don't know me!"

"Still have that same old temper I see…" He mused, "Must be that fiery, hot passion of yours that has Stan all hung up on you."

"Hung up…?"

"Yeah, he's been all worried about you ignoring him lately, says you've been all spacey-like the entire week." Kenny stuck out his tongue, "Don't start growing a vag just cause you suckin' his dick man! He's starting to get all pissy and pathetic on me cause of it!"

Kyle ignored his obviously rude comments, only concerned with the root of the problem, "worried?"

"Yeah."

"…I…I'm sorry Ken. I'm just…a lot of stuff is going on." He shook his head as if to clear a sudden train of unwanted thought from his head, "I promise I'll talk to him about it tonight…" Suddenly a thought struck him, making him look up at his counterpart sharply, "Oh! Speaking of which, he's been saying the same things about you for the past few months. He says you've been working longer hours and avoiding people…kind of spacey yourself…"

"Hm."

"Hm?"

"Don't worry 'bout it, k?"

Yeah, it was true. He'd been trying to hide it, but something had been bothering him, and it had nothing to do with Stan or Kyle, much less anyone else at the school…

_Kenny's parents drank often, fought often, and were jobless often. So this night was average in the McCormick household. Karen had hidden in her room, the only one with a functioning lock, and hid herself away, every once in a while yelling a profanity out to do with noise and little concentration on whatever she was doing in her room. Kevin was out God knows where doing God knows what for God knows how long, so of course Kenny was stuck making sure their only lifelines didn't off themselves. _

_Stuart had passed out some hours ago, some 1980's version of Playboy in hand and draped across his bloodshot eyes. Which left him Carol to watch over. Certainly he would never call them by their first names to their faces; it was a form of silent disrespect to the life they'd created for their three children. _

_Before he was aware of the noise he heard a soft resonance humming from the bathroom._

_"Mom?"_

_"Ke-Kenny?"_

_He opened the door slowly, preparing himself for whatever disaster was behind the door. His mother leaned limp against the porcelain toilet bowl, looking rather green, fresh puke stains littering her shirt._

_He groaned in mild disgust, and then hurriedly went to her aid, mopping up a mixture of puke and booze with a dish rag. _What a waste. _He brooded. _

_Before he could stand back up a hand grasped his arm, nails leaving a faint mark from the desperate effort to restrain him. "Please…Don't leave, Beau."_

_"What? Mom, it's me, Kenny."_

_"Oh, Beau! I'm so sorry I never told you! I should have told you I was pregnant while I had the chance…but you were so beautiful, you wanted to go to NYC and make somethin' of yourself! How was I to crush that dream?"_

_"Mom…" Kenny whispered, the breath leaving him._

_"You always said your name would go up in lights 'Beau Sullivan'. We had some good times right?" She paused, "I think Stuart always knew about us…You and Kevin, of course he was too young to understand at the time, and everything just got to us and look at us now!...Kenneth looks just like you, too, did you know that?"_

_Kenny just sat, stunned, staring blankly at this husk of a woman before him and what her mindless ramblings meant for him. Karen and Kevin had always looked so much like their father. Brown, wiry hair, a farmers tan, and those dull hazel eyes. Meanwhile Kenny had soft, blond locks and lively gray-brown eyes, and olive skin. _

_Carol's head thudded on his chest, interrupting his pulsing heart and thoughts, "Mom?...Carol?" He shook her lightly to be sure she was asleep, then carried her into her bed laying her next to his father._

_"How come just when I think everything is normal it all blows up in my face like the world is just saying fuck you Kenny! Screw you! Just-" Suddenly enraged he kicked as hard as he could the wall nearest him, leaving a gaping hole as evidence._

_"Fuck."_

"Are you sure you're ok?" Kyle asked ripping Kenny from his recent memories that haunted his thoughts.

"Huh? -Oh!- Yeah, it's fine! Totally!" He contemplated just spilling his guts to the other boy, just really breaking down and letting everything go, but he quickly dismissed the notion.

"I guess I just have a lot of crazy shit goin' on too…"

Kyle chuckled humorlessly, "Welcome to South Park."

**LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL.**

Well…That's the 1st chapter…I promise it will make more sense later, hopefully! XD Yeah…and I didn't make Karen up, Kenny actually had a little sister for one episode…go watch it it's the 'Super Best Friends' Episode I believe…maybe I'm just stupid...

~Riba Bian


	2. Not So Bad

I do not ownzr south park

**LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOOL.**

Stan had been shocked when Kyle had called him saying he needed to come over immediately. Not that he wasn't excited or anything! Just that Kyle hadn't called or texted him in nearly a week, so the sudden invitation to come to his house was a bit of a shocker. His first response was wanting to haul ass across town, burst into Kyle's room, and just ravish the boy with his less than accurately expressed love, but obviously this was not to be a) because of his recently overactive asthma, and b) because that would surely make him out to be desperate and clingy….which he wasn't.

Instead, Stan opted for putting his state authorized driver's license to good use and taking the car, and eventually got out the door after some short-lived banter with Shelly, which went a little something like:

_"Going to see your boyfriend turd?"_

_"Fuck you Shelly!"_

_"As if."_

Yeah.

Kyle's house was only a few blocks away, yet somehow Stan still found his mind wandering as he carefully drove the fractured lane of Seventh Street. It'd been almost five years since he'd finally broke it off with Wendy and nearly three since him and Kyle had gotten together. Somehow no one had figured it out yet either….ok, maybe that wasn't entirely true considering Shelly knew….and half the school…

It's not like they were trying to hide it, they just didn't want to look totally gay in front of the entire student body, especially since word spread like wildfire in South Park and neither felt particularly fond of having to deal with their parents' reactions to such news. This was especially true seeing as his own father was a drunken, incompetent moron and Kyle's mother was…well…oh c'mon just meet Sheila and you'd know what he was so hesitant about.

Pulling into the driveway, he gradually slowed the car to a stop. For the first time since the call Stan was beginning to feel anxious…or rather nervous. He suddenly had irresolute feelings about what Kyle was soon going to tell him. What if he wasn't interested in him anymore? He felt his heart pang at the concept and for some reason found himself laughing. _'Jesus Christ Kyle! What the fuck are you doing to me?'_

Finally he decided it was about time he got to what he was here for and left what was ironically the safety of his (or rather his parent's) car, and entered the Broflovski residence.

"Hey Ike, Mrs. Broflovski."

Sheila responded with a quick "hello Stanley" then got back to whatever she was doing, Ike on the other hand was too wrapped up in 'the Daily Show' to even be bothered with anymore effort towards a greeting than a grunt and a succinct wave of the hand to confirm that he'd heard the brunette's arrival. He didn't anticipate much else though seeing as Stan's entrance wasn't exactly a scarce occurrence thus he brushed their nonchalant attitudes off easily and proceeded to his target's abode on the upper level of the house.

The minute he opened the door Kyle was upon him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck and Stan's immediately subsequent the other's waist.

"Hey."

"Hey…"

There was a fleetingly comfortable silence, then he was released and lead by the hand toward Kyle's bed to sit down.

The curly haired boy sighed, his auburn tresses bobbing charmingly as he fell back on the rather large bed, laying down contentedly, "Oh God, I can't even begin to explain what's happened!"

"You're not…uh…" Stan mumbled trailing off into his thoughts.

"Not what…?"

"You're not like….pregnant or something weird like that…are you?"

Kyle blanched, hardly believing the word that somehow cascaded from the gorgeous lips of his thick-headed boyfriend, "STAN!"

Stan winced, suddenly feeling stupid for even suggesting something so impractical, "Sorry, sorry!" he put up his hands in self defense, "I was watching Junior last night and I keep thinking about Arnold Schwarzenegger giving birth…"

"Ugh, you watch _way _too much television, it's dulling the little intelligence you have…" he muttered in reply, though his words held only slight conviction. He closed his eyes, draping an unsteady hand across them to flush out the bright light for just a moment.

When he removed his hand Stan was only inches from his face, legs on one side of him still but his hands planted on either side of him as if blocking the exits. Next he knew those gorgeous lips that had so been the other's downfall just moments ago where upon his and wreaking so much beautiful havoc on his nerves. Their mouths worked easily against each other's, tongues intertwining and searching familiar crevices like abandoned lovers reuniting after what felt like forever.

"Wait."

Stan halted, both suddenly aware of the distraction they'd encountered. One moment Kyle was one the verge of revealing some crazy big secret and the next he knew his arms were around the other's neck, the other with his hands exploring the milky white skin of the Jew's surprisingly well-built chest.

"Um…" Kyle began, unable to pull his mind back together with unfulfilled passion pulsing strong through his veins.

"…I…I'm sorry I didn't mean to interrupt you…I just couldn't stop myself…" Stan responded, flustered.

Kyle sat up shaking his head, "N-no, it's fine."

Another silence.

One of them clears their throat to break the stillness, but neither is sure who. "You were saying…?"

"O-oh! Yeah." Kyle begins to rummage though a few drawers, shaking as he searches for whatever it is he's looking for. Eventually he pulls out two pieces of faded paper; one is a photocopy while the other is obviously authentic.

"Birth certificates?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Before you start probing me at least look at them…"

He bit his lip nervously as Stan's eyes grew wider as he studied the documents, "What-? Tell me you're kidding, dude! This must be some sick joke Cartman is playing on you!"

"You know outside of calling me a Jew, calling Token black, and ripping on gingers he only pulls this sort of messed-up shit on Butters, " Kyle pointed out his logic, "And why the Hell would he want to be related to me in the first place?"

He didn't answer, unable to come up with a valid explanation.

Kyle continued to explain his well researched theory, "How come my parents didn't have any other children besides me? Why did they have to adopt Ike? I looked further into it and at the age of twenty my Dad was diagnosed with infertility, which means he couldn't have impregnated my Mother when she had me. I considered adoption, but there's no denying I'm my Mother's child, especially with the medical records to consider."

Kyle paused, taking in his boyfriend's reaction to what he'd just revealed, "I….considered a sperm donation too….but there's no way they would have had the money at such an early point in their live to afford one. And Cartman's Mom…well…it's true that she's his father, but Dr. Mephisto never said she was his mother as well! Don't you get it?"

Stan gawked at him as If he had just gone totally and completely insane within the last five minutes, "Dude…."

"What?"

"Are you suggesting you and Cartman –Eric Cartman- are related?"

"No, Stanley…I'm saying were siblings. Brothers! In fact…you could say we were fraternal twins…"

**LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOOL.**

Butters strolled down Peach Tree Lane, still shell shocked from the events that occurred just two days ago. Right there…right in the middle of the park, with the only people seeming to bear witness his two friends.

He couldn't even remember how he'd gotten home that night, in fact, he could barely remember the life-changing events that had taken place just hours before once he'd regained consciousness. However he'd begun to feel the affects almost instantaneously. He was sick, feverish almost, his head hurt beyond belief and he felt nauseous half the time. And this was just his body getting ready to carry a baby! He couldn't even imagine what it would be like once he was actually pregnant…

There was no way to avoid Damien; he knew this all too well. Soon his body would be ready for the offspring and he would just be a vessel for a life of evil proportions.

He watched musingly a Mother and her young child as they strolled the commons, unaware, or maybe just uncaring, that they were being watched by him. She lifted the little girl of only about seven or eight months high above her head, spinning her in circles, both laughing joyously at the simple form of pleasure. And he felt….

_Envy?_

Did he want that? Could it be that he wanted this child? No. _'Not his.'_ Than whose? _'Eric's…..'_ He blushed at the thought. It was true he had a crush of sorts on the other boy. Despite how mean he was he paid more attention to him than others did, and he felt more security around him, like despite his rough demeanor he would protect him in some way. It wouldn't make much sense to anyone else, but he didn't care because no one had to know.

_'But does that mean I would want to have his child._'

Butters hugged his stomach, imagining that there was already an embryo of a child growing in him. Imagining that it was Cartman's. Imagining that he loved him and that everything would be ok, that everything wasn't suddenly spiraling out of control so swiftly.

He gazed back at the mother and child, seeing them so happy together. The child fitting so well against her mother's bosom, and for the first time he wondered how he was to provide for the child. He didn't have breasts to feed it with….he was sure he didn't have the mother's instinct.

Now he imagined holding the child, what it might look like…

He smiled.

"Maybe…this won't be so bad after all…"

**LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL.**

YAY! LOL I made up Peach Tree Lane. :)

Also, Kyle's not preggers, that was just irony...I was trying to be funny...ha...ha... *backfire* XD

R&R

~Riba Bian


	3. Whatever

First of all, I'd like to start out by thanking .MeloniousXx (for some reason whenever i try to type your username it comes out like this on so apologies on that!) for being the coolest person ever and leaving me those amazing reviews! Even if I had to ask for my first reviews it was SO worth it seeing as how super special awesome they were! Ah! You are my muse! I absolutely love you!

Also I am so happy so many people have read my story! I check my story traffic and stats everyday and I'm always SO pleased with the turn out!

If you like my FF or at least find it vaguely amusing PLZ R&R!

I will start groveling…

**LOLOLOLOLOLLOLOLOLOLOLL.**

Butters groaned. Lugging around his big ass backpack all day like a fucking pack mule was really taking its toll on his back, excuse the language; it was just the hormones suddenly evident in his body that made him feel unexpectedly more sensitive to little pains than usual. _Goddamn Satan protégé._ It's not like he _wouldn't_ use a locker seeing as he carried around every single one of his books _all day, _it's just that Cartman had commandeered his at the beginning of the year, claiming he'd needed it more.

As Butters approached the over-weight boy his palms began to sweat, "H-hey…Eric!" _'Maybe I should say something…'_

Cartman glanced at him, his honey-brown eyes striking him down with that powerful self-induced righteousness that he was sure only he could appreciate. He loved the way a maelstrom of murk or luminosity would surge beneath his irises, a hard-hitting blitz of whatever rancor was likely to usurp his current interest. _'Maybe I should just ask Damien, after all, he's the one forcing me into this, not Eric…'_

"Hey faggot." A normal greeting, at least for him.

'…._Now hold on a minute! That is _my _locker! I have just as many rights to it as he does!'_

"N-now listen here Eric, cause I'm only gonna say this once!" Butters started at the shock of the words actually coming out of his mouth, audible no less.

Cartman only looked on with mild interest, sending his eyes into a medium swirl of bronze.

"…Th-that is m-my locker a-and I demand use o-of it!" He felt guilty, but powerful and brave all at once. Like he was making a great triumph over his own individual adversary. Still, the guilt was bothering him, like his consciousness was screaming at him something he couldn't quite hear.

"And what the hell would you use it for?"

'_Wait….what?'_

"What do you-?" Butters stopped, suddenly remembering what his mind had been trying to tell him.

_New shoes so tight it was nearly unbearable, dress pants so starch-pressed he could barely walk without a noticeable waddle, and a tie pressed so far into his jugular it felt more like a noose. It was the first day of senior year and Butters couldn't have felt much better about it. The establishment reeked of fresh paint and he was careful not to breathe it in at any particularly fresh areas as not to end up loopy before the bell even rang._

_He vividly recalled the previous year when he'd mentioned the stench to Tweek and the boy, recently taken off his meds, had run rampant all over the school inhaling whatever amount of chemical he could before being dragged of the premises. _

_It'd been a long six months without him junior year._

_He glanced down at the letter he'd received in the mail just 3 and a half weeks prior, reading over it again, though it was pretty much the same as last year, except maybe the last part:_

_Dear South Park High School attendee and parents(s)/legal guardian(s), _

_Please report to homeroom first thing on Wednesday, September 3__rd__ to retrieve your schedule and to receive further instruction on new school policies. Freshmen please report to the auditorium for a presentation on rules and regulations on block scheduling. We are well aware that the adjustment from periods in the middle school to block scheduling in the high school may be difficult for some and we, as a staff, will try our best to make the adjustment as sound as possible for everyone._

_All other upperclassmen please be sure to bypass your locks with your homeroom teachers FIRST THING, we do not want to have to cut off any unauthorized locks from you lockers! Due to an inability of the district to access the students' locker content we are no longer allowing for students to use personal locks, combination or key._

_Thank you, _

_Gerard Roman – South Park HS Principal_

_Ugh. This was the one part of the first day of school Butters couldn't stand! He could never manage to get the lock off his door, no matter how long he fumbled or how much of a migraine he built up concentrating on getting the numbers to align perfectly. _

_He'd been groping at the padlock for nearly a good ten minutes before Cartman loomed at the locker next his. The other flawlessly coordinated the digits and within a matter of seconds it was off and in his palm. _

_"Hey faggot…failing at life again?" It was less of a question than a statement._

_Butters grinned sheepishly, ashamed at his total 'FML' moment, "Would you mind helping me, Eric? I don't mean to waste your time or nuthin'…"_

_Cartman shrugged, "whatever." _

_Butters gave him the combination and he quickly twisted the knob in the accurate pattern prescribed. Somehow he couldn't keep the thrill of his nerves on end at the thought of the obese boy using his skilled hands on himself. He pressed his fingertips hard to his mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping at the silently torturous fantasy. What he wouldn't give to just…_

_"Here." Cartman dangled the rusting, generation-old lock In front of him, interrupting his train of thought, which he was exceedingly grateful for. _

_"…right…" He took it sighing, "I really don't know what to do, my dad'll be awful angry if he finds out I haven't been using my locker."_

_"So? Fuck him."_

_Butters gaped at him, "I-I…I couldn't! No…"_

_Cartman rolled his eyes, obviously fed up with the conversation, "Whatever, I'll just throw half my shit in there, then your faggot dad won't question that it's being used and you won't have to act like such a fucking pussy all the time."_

_The blonde beamed excitedly, "Really? You'd do that for me?"_

_"Whatever." He looked in the other direction as if to mask a sudden unwelcomed expression._

_"Thank you, Eric!"_

Oh, yeah.

He'd forgotten about all that stuff. But semester two finals coming up and, more importantly, the abrupt changes in his body had distracted him from what was going on around him and all he could feel were impulsive changes in emotion that came and went like a hurricane not on storm watch.

"I didn't…I'm sorry, Eric. I just can't carry this around anymore." He could practically feel his spine dislocating as he spoke.

"Fine. Hand it over…stupid pussy fag." Cartman muttered, holding out his hand expectantly.

"E-excuse me?"

He twitched with impatience. "Your shit retard."

Butters bent uncomfortably as he struggled to tug the stacks of books, paper, and binders from his back pack, "How am I supposed to get my stuff out then?" He asked as he dispensed nearly three-quarters of his load into the other's waiting arms.

Cartman thought on it, though from the look on his face when he was asked the question he already had the answer in mind, "Meet me here between classes."

Butters grinned, his expression contorted with such delight it was sickening, "Thank you, Eric!"

"Whatever."

**LOLOLOLOLOLOLOOLOLOLOLOLOLOL.**

_"Thank you for coming to Cici's!"_ Kenny shouted like a total poseur for about the twentieth time that afternoon. He hated working there. The food was nasty as Hell, it always smelled like someone was taking a fresh dump right under his nose, and the people…ew. Not to mention he was the only white person working there, not like he was racist or anything, but…c'mon…have you ever walked into a Cici's and seen a white person on staff? Every time someone walked through the goddamn door he got gaped at like he was a fucking leper! As if seeing his half-Arian ass behind the counter was the shock of the century. He'd even had a guy walk back out to check that he'd actually walked into the right place once.

One of his only 'friends' at the establishment, Marquis, always said he was hired because he was 'black at heart' kind of 'like Bill Clinton'. Unfortunately the latter wasn't here to amuse him with such things so he was bored stiff….or rather flaccid.

_'Want to harsh your ever persistent boner? Come to Cici's! We attract the most grotesque people you can't even fathom being so turned off!_' He didn't even have the energy to laugh.

Kenny glanced at the clock on the wall, leaning his cheek into his fist, elbow propped lazily on the countertop.

**2:17 PM**

Soon the high school would be getting out, and everyone would be going home. Home? Hm. As cliché as it sounded he'd never felt at home….but soon that would change. He'd run, or rather drive, away and never be seen or heard from again. He'd pack up his things, take his precious, hoarded money and create himself a home so far away it'd be like he was in no way even connected to the hick-town.

_'South what? Nope. Never heard of it.' _Kenny was momentarily amused by the imaginary conversation before his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Yo. Ken, 'sup?"

Marquis.

"Nuthin' much man. You?"

He smirked, "Just here to relieve you from total Hell….your shift's over man."

"Uh…" He blinked. Wasn't his shift over at 5:00? He glanced at the clock finally realizing; '_I read the clock wrong._'

**5:20 PM**

Everyone had gotten out from school more than two hours ago.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, worn out from days without sleep. "Way to be late…you're lucky I covered for you." _'If I'd known I wouldn't have.'_

"Yeah…" he leaned in further, "Rebekah made me stay with the kid for a few hours…fucking torture…"

"And whose fault is it for not pulling out?"

Marquis growled, "I did! Every time! I even used the fucking condoms! -And I_ know _the bitch was cheatin' on me-"

Kenny reached up a hand to cover his mouth, "God, keep you fucking voice down douche bag! Feel like losing your child support money, 'cause you're about to get us both fired!"

Marquis rolled his eyes, brushing the hand away, "All I'm saying is don't be surprised if you see my ass on 'Maury' and I'm 'not the father'."

Kenny glanced again at the clock impatiently, not taking any of this seriously,

**5:29 PM**

"I'm not listening to this shit for another second." He walked around the counter and swiped his card saying he was checking out.

"Aiight, aiight. It's cool; just remember you're takin' me outta here when you're leavin'." He persisted.

Kenny waved a dismissing hand, "Sure, sure." He had told Marquis about his goal to get the Hell out of South Park once he got the money and had promised to take the ebony boy with him, but they were both aware that it was just a hallow pledge, more of a sense of false hope that followed them.

But recent events were making him persistent.

He _would _make it out of South Park or die trying.

**.**

So yeah…not much crazy plot here, or really any at all, just development, I feel like I'm moving so fast and want to have a little bit going on before I just throw all sorts of shit around… anyway…once again R&R because I need it, and one more time THANK YOU SO MUCH .MeloniousXx (srry againd ^-^') FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND REVIEWS AND FOR YOUR WRITING!

~Riba Bian


	4. Possessed and the Possession

So..I'm sorry this wasn't up sooner but my Mommy forgot to pay the RCN bill and I had no internet, outgoing calls, or cable all week. I know, I'm a tortured child XDDDD.

Anyways, I'd like to first thank my BFF Ellen for being so awesome, your review made me cry it made me feel so good, and I know you don't really like reading yaoi much so it makes it even better that you took the time to read it and review. I LOVE YOU!

UPDATE-Ok, so I finally changed the lemon to sound how I wanted it to in the first place. I decided to give away a little tidbit of information I was going to reveal later about Eric and Leopold's relationship prior to the SCHMEXING instead of later on now. Also I tried to shift the focus just slightly more on Cartman than I alreadt had, and I'm pretty happy about the changes now... :) I'd like to go back and fix other things too along with posting the next two chapters in the near future. There are still alot of careless mistakes I'd like to fix...

LEMONS!

**LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL.**

"Higher."

Cartman was a cruel sadistic bastard.

"Here?" the brunette pivoted his desk chair to look at the blonde, feigning as if he hadn't already been staring with his peripheral vision.

Butters strained his calves to push him up higher onto his toes, stretching his arms up above his head so far he was shaking form the effort.

"Higher."

Not like it was his fault, it was Butters fault for indulging him so with his masochistic and overly-obliging personality. He just loved to watch him turn red with the endeavor of something that would be so simple for him to do himself. Didn't he ever wonder why he hung posters so high up on his walls, or even briefly ponder why every time he came into the other's quarters they seemed to collapse so noticeably intentionally?

Not that he cared; he enjoyed the petite boy's pain too much….of course there were some things about it that had really begun to bother him.

"H-here?" By now Butters's face was some brilliant scarlet, every muscle in his body quivered, and yet he still pushed himself. These things pleased Cartman.

Butters shirt rode up on his lithe stomach, ass stuck out attractively with the curve of his back. It was these subtle observations that crept into his thoughts so as to seriously piss him off.

Butters moaned in defeat, letting his arms fall, Mel Gibson falling from his grip. "I just can't do it, Eric. I…I'm awful sorry, really I am, but I swear this thing gets higher and higher every time I come over."

'_Dumbass.'_

"Maybe you just suck more ass every time you come over, did you ever think of that?"

Butters sighed, "Maybe." He sat down next to the poster, crossing his legs and resting his arms on his knees.

Cartman raised an eyebrow. '_Did he even listen to half the shit I just spewed at him?'_

"Eric…did you ever…want to do something…and you _know _it would just ruin someone's life, but you wanted to do it anyway?" Butters inquired timidly.

'_Is he seriously that retarded?' _"Yeah. Screw them, I do what I want!"

"R-really?" He asked, glancing up at him.

Cartman rolled his eyes in response, the gold in them flashing with a severe "yes" left unsaid. The sort of 'comfort' -to an extent- that they would never share out loud because he would never be able to offer it.

"You're...you're right!" Butters stood, a strange look passing through his azure gaze as he stared intently at him, "I don't care! I hate him. _I hate him! _I'll ruin his plans, I…I don't care what this takes!"

Suddenly Butters was upon him, their mouths clashing with the inexperience of a genuine, unadulterated virgin. It was unexpected to say the least, but not completely shocking. It wasn't the first time they'd kissed, but other times it had been quick and off-handed, as if it'd never happened. This time it was purposeful, and without a question, strong and needy.

Cartman was possessed.

He couldn't control some furious rage trapped inside him for far longer than he was aware. Tongues pressed behind tightly closed lips finally able to brake free and met to invade a long predetermined border.

Cartman pushed the smaller boy down onto the floor, the other taking the opportunity to wrap his arms tight around his neck, as if he were afraid if he didn't he would stop. He slipped his hands under Butters shirt, disconnecting their lips to push it over his head and toss it aside. Everything moved so fast he wasn't even completely sure if he was even in control of his own body's actions any longer. He ignored the nagging feeling; his eyes traced over the slender body of the boy beneath him, hands soon following, and grazing over Butters's responsive, delicate skin. Immediately goose bumps rose where skin met, strangely thrilling him with the power he held over the other's being.

_'How easy it would be to take advantage of that.'_

As he stroked over a particularly soft area, the muscles beneath that delicate, ivory skin tightened...and suddenly a muffled snort escaped the being beneath him.

"Are you _laughing?"_ Cartman growled.

Butters covered his mouth with his hands trying to hold back the giggles as Cartman continued to cruelly tease the area up his side. He simply shook his head, face taking on that enchanting shade of scarlet once more.

Cartman scowled, leaning down and biting the region with razor-sharp teeth. He savored the bitter-sweet tang of the peach fuzz skin and metallic-flavored blood against the flat of his tongue as he licked in relentless patterns.

"Ah!"

The effortless reverberation rumbled through his rib cage, igniting the element within Cartman that was the sole command over his body. He could practically hear the voice in the back of his head, an intent roar starting in the back of his mind and thrusting forward until his voice of 'reason' was drowning beneath it's barreging force, '_Oh you are going to fuck him so hard, till he's crying out for mercy that never comes. Isn't simply the thought erection provoking?'_

"Shut up."

"Wha-?" Butters was interrupted before the words could pass through his esophagus as his pants were roughly ripped from his body leaving him nearly bare if not for a pair of briefs scarcely covering his already erect penis from view.

"W-wait." Butters pressed his fragile hands into Cartman's shockingly firm torso as if it would do him any good, "please…I…" He gripped his shirt tugging on it, "…want to see you too…"

Cartman wasn't sure how to react, however the verdict was made for him as Butters used the advantage to pull himself up and begin to unbutton his shirt, placing soft, fluttery kisses down his jawline and downward as he unfastened each button. He stuck out his tongue making affectionate licks downward, over his protruding stomach, and toward the navel, and further until he reached his pants carefully undoing them.

Butters glanced up searching for some form of approval in Cartman's onyx pupils. Receiving no signs of displeasure he proceeded to push down the hem of his boxers to expose his constricted manhood. He cupped it in his palms, a slight interior intimidation passing over his face before he leaned close on his knees and elbows, his breath so near the shaft he could feel it harden in his hands.

Finally, after a long moment's hesitation, he took the tip in his mouth gradually easing down Cartman's shaft until he could feel the head hit the back of his throat, not even able to fit the whole of it in his mouth. he hummed a little, trying to relax the back of his throat into fitting more of the large boy's cock down his eager throat, but it didn't do much good other than to create a pleasant vibration.

"Mn!" He hadn't even meant to make the sound; in fact, he'd been trying particularly vigorously not to.

Butters, visibly thrilled and encouraged by the sound, began move his head up and down, accommodated amid Cartman's responses. He moved faster with each drive descending on the other's hard cock. He was evidently dazed as he was harshly shoved off of him and onto his stomach.

"Wh-Wha-What a-ar-?" However his question was ruthlessly answered as his remaining article of clothing was tossed aside and a solid force drove so severely inside him towards some unfathomable depth he didn't even know existed within him. Cartman's cock was shoved so far in side him he was shaking from the effort to take it all without crying. Questions turned into screams of pain and shock as Cartman fully emerged himself, for some reason pausing to wait till the shocked blonde's shudders stilled. He felt something like concern trying to force it's way from his chest, but he forced it away, instead leaning over to nip the back of his neck.

Butters quickly reached a hand back, grasping onto Cartman's hair to keep him close. "It's..." he swallowed, taking a short breath, "I'm f-fine, Eric. K-keep mov-AH!"

Cartman pulled out and thrust back into him, effectively cutting off whatever tender moment he planned to create that he just couldn't handle. He continued to move, feeling Butters so hot and tight around him he couldn't stop himself from thrusting into him as hard as that over-stretched entrance allowed, driven -if not forced- to it by the others submissive behavior.

The pain the welcomed invasion gave Butters was still excruciatingly evident, but soon Cartman could hear the groans of pain subside into something less tortured and more...pleasured. He was shocked to find himself just as pleased and encouraged by this subtle change in the mood. He thrust harder and faster, unable and unwilling to slow his pace. Harder.

_Harder._

The already load moans climaxed, an ear-shattering, orgasmic scream ripping from Butters sore throat

The warm, already tight barriers of Butters taut asshole compressed as he came. They closed so fucking tightly around Cartman's throbbing cock, forcing Cartman to come soon after, filling the panting and stuttering blonde with an overflow of creamy, white sperm.

Cartman pulled out, the raging brute that had taken over him retreating, bringing him back to reality. His semen dripped quietly onto the carpet, rolling in short streams down Butters thighs.

Cartman stood, not sure how to react to what had just taken place and unable to speak or move, as if in a trance from some Goddamn reason unbeknownst to him.

Strangely enough it was Butters who moved first.

Shakily he stood, walking with an awkward sort of waddle-limp, that would have normally made Cartman laugh, but it didn't. He just stood there. Naked. Butters moved around slowly getting dressed and hissing whenever the fabric chaffed a particularly susceptible, bruised, or carpet burned area. He then gathered up Cartman's clothing, a strange sort of smile on his face as he approached him and set them in his arms. He gave him a quick peck on the mouth.

"Thank you." He left as hurriedly as his exhausted legs would allow him, leaving Cartman to just…stand there, for the first time in his life completely torn and without a thing to say about it.

**LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOOL.**

Kenny shoved the last of his belongings in the trunk of his used Ford car, a hand-me-down, just like everything else he 'owned'. Rain pelted him, soaking him from head to toe like a pathetic stray searching for shelter. He closed his eyes, thinking over everything to be sure he was prepared. He loathed this.

Part of him just wanted to admit that he was and always would be a failure, but another stronger part wanted to make something of himself. He knew there was no other way than to sacrifice himself as he was now and recreate himself in the image of 'the normal man'. What ever that was.

If Kenny believed in premonitions he would have found the silhouette emerging through a veil of precipitation a bit eerie, but he had no such thoughts as he watched closely the maturing figure.

"Butters?" He slammed the trunk closed, moving toward the bone-soaked boy.

He nodded, "I-I-I'm…lost…"

"What do you mean lost? Your house is like- a freakin' block from here…I'll even drive you there."

Before he even finished the sentence Butters was shaking his head defiantly, "No! I…I have to leave; I have to get out of here Ken. What have I done! Oh Jesus, Damien is gonna kill me!"

_'Seriously God don't do this to me!' _"It's not a problem seriously, I'm sure it's all ok, just-"

"No! I mean it! I'm running, right now! I'm leaving a-and you can't stop me!" He shuddered, beginning to sneeze and cough in quick succession.

Kenny winced, "Alright, alright, just get in the car." Butters slipped into the passenger's seat, practically on his side, "Uh…wouldn't you be more comfortable sitting up straight…?"

Butters didn't answer.

Kenny groaned, reaching into the backseat for some clothes, throwing them in his lap, "Put 'em on."

The blonde just stared, reddening.

"What now?"

"Don't look at me…please."

He rolled his eyes, but obeyed the ridiculous request, twisting to look out the window._ 'What the Hell is _Little Miss Perfect_ doing out so late?'_That was the last person he expected to see out in such weather. It was more tan odd; it was fate once again chucking him the middle finger. As expected. Where it rains it pours they say.

"I'm decent."

Kenny turned to look at him, not the least bit shocked that the clothes were big on him. All that mattered though was that the boy wasn't dying of ammonia, especially not in his car where it would be on his hands. He immediately thought of Marquis and wondered I this wasn't God's revenge on him for leaving him behind. _'I guess I don't have many options, now do I?'_

"Now that you're alright…I can just drive you home and-"

"-I'm not going home." He replied surprisingly harshly.

Kenny sighed, "I was going to say we can stop by and grab you some things," He stopped, taking in the stunned look he got in reply, "I'm not going to have your death on my hands when you run off and get yourself killed."

When Butters didn't respond he continued, "I'm leaving too, so…you can come with me…but bring money; I'm not paying for you!" He started the car and pulled away from the curb.

Butters smiled, big and fake, wary of someone he barely knew that he was soon to take off with to some unforeseen place. He was either naïve or desperate, and Kenny had a bad feeling it was the latter.

_'Well God I hope you're happy, do you get off to this or something? Honestly, paying for the sins of my Father has become tiring!'_

He was shocked by a voice interrupting his thoughts, "We're here."

Kenny stopped the car and waited. And waited…

"Are you going?"

"How am I suppose to know you w-won't leave me?"

"Ugh." He thrust open the car door and stepped out, "I'll go, where do you keep your cash?"

"I…you don't-"

"-Hurry up! It's raining."

He answered and Kenny ran around the back of the house. He peaked in the window to glance at the clock, now under the modest cover the roof provided as protection.

**11:48 PM**

Good.

Carefully he jingled with the lock until he heard the much anticipated _click_ and shoved the door open. It was quick, an in and out kind of job. He'd robbed many a place without any objects ever reported missing, no one suspecting a thing, he only ever took diminutive valuables that would not be noticed or just shrugged off as 'lost'. This time he pocketed a few dollars from off the counter and in a purse on the couch, about thirty some dollars in all, then proceeded up the stairway to get what he had come for.

Some clothes. Money, under the mattress…along with a diary. He was about to put it back, but…something stopped him. He slipped the little book in his pocket along with the stolen money. Butters had about four hundred or so dollars here, probably had more in an account, he felt around further and managed to find a credit card. After all, he was going to need a lot more money than he had to pay for himself.

Quickly he snuck back out of the house, and back to the car.

"Here."

"Thanks Kenny…"

Kenny started the car and glanced down at his pocket where the little diary set. He momentarily wondered if it held the answers to the platinum blonde's strange behavior. Not that it mattered but… it couldn't hurt to find out…

**LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL.**

I know, lame diary stealing shizz...but I had an idea, and it's got nothing to do with him reading the diary, and more to do with...well...you'll see... XD

Ugh. Need to fix so muxh shizz!

PLEASE REVIEW! Love you.

~Riba Bian


	5. Ok

Ok. this time the update took even longer, but that's not because I didn't want to update, but because my life literally fell apart for a while, and I'm not talking lame 'OMG my GF totally dumped me' stuff (though I have had romantic problems), but I don't want to complain...

Also it would have been done about a month and a half earlier than this, but I was up visiting my father in Cape Cod and had no means to update...srry.

The next two chpter are alomost done and should be put out in rapid succession, but I'd also like to go back and fix up a few things from the last few chapters. I srsly need to clear up things and fix a bunch of stupid, careless errors... :)

PLZ REVIEW! PLZ! I NEED IT SOOOOOOOOO BAD! I've only got four reviews and I had to ask for two of them (maybe three, but I thing she did the second on her own accord! At least I imagine it that way...)

Anyways...ONWARD!

**LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL.**

Kyle's gaze followed his mother as she navigated the kitchen like a pro, making sure everything about whatever kosher feast she was preparing was absolutely perfect for her perfectly constructed family. He had always thought that, no matter what she did to it, kosher food would never taste quite as good as non-kosher. He knew it was all psychological, really kosher was more pure, but the truth was he was just as human as everyone else and he always wanted what he couldn't have, just as he did now…watching her. Knowing her deepest, darkest secrets.

He wanted to scream, _'Why didn't you tell me? Don't you trust me? Does my opinion even fathom the littlest smidgen of concern in your warped world? Or did you wipe your hands of impurity the minute you thrust me from your womb into this cold world…_

_'Me and my brother.' _

Kyle shuddered at the thought of him and Cartman being related. Although he secretly relished the irony of Cartman being half-Jewish, after all he'd ever said about Jews, it was still impossible to even begin to consider it as the truth. Maybe he was going crazy, maybe he'd imagined it all and really it was just all some crazy delusion. Maybe all the stress of school, graduation project, and finals, not to mention hiding his relationship with his Super Best Friend from his parents had all finally gotten to him.

'_No…that can't be true…can it?'_

But then again how was it even physically possible? How had there never been any publicity? For God's sake, this could easily be the voted as the eighth World Wonder! He'd be a laughingstock, a mockery, another tabloid paraded around by the cold-blooded, merciless media to entertain the masses. Then again an event like this in the unfortunate town of South Park was anything but unusual. He could just kick the dirt out from under his feet, turn the other cheek and pretend he'd never heard about it….

_But…_

He couldn't. He was far too down to earth by nature to be in denial.

"Is something bothering you, bubbie?" Sheila cast her concerned gaze on her son. '_Always aware of trouble brewing it seems…'_

Kyle flushed, feeling as if a spotlight had suddenly been cast in his direction. He blinked a few times as if caught off guard, beads of sweat forming on his brow. He suddenly felt unjustified in his anger, ashamed…_guilty_…as if it was his fault. '_I have no right to be upset with her for this…I've gone for years hiding my relationship with Stan from her, if only to keep from hurting her. Why should I suspect that her intentions for hiding this from me are any different?'_

"It's nothing. I just…"

Sheila gazed on patiently, and for some reason he couldn't help but feel foolish for not noticing it before, _that gaze_, that culpable look that quivered behind her pupils.

"It's about me…and Stan…" Kyle glanced up, swallowing harshly.

She wiped her hands on a table cloth to rid them of any blood from whatever meat dish she was preparing, and then sat herself across from him. "Did you two get in a fight Kyle? I know you two are very close. Did something happen, bubbie?"

He glanced away, "No…maybe…no." He sighed, "It's nothing like that, not like you think." '_I wish Stan were here right now…'_

Kyle took a deep breath, "There's no better place to start than the beginning…but then the story would just drag on for hours and hours and miles and miles and…" He laughed hoarsely, but his throat got tight with desperation. Oh, he wanted her to hear him out so bad. He wanted her to understand why he'd lied. Why he'd held his silence for so long. "So, I'll start about three years ago…"

_Kyle glanced over at Stan, drinking him in for a moment, before sighing. They were at Stan's house, each enjoying a nice, midnight bowl of cereal at the dinner table. Stan had Cocao Crispies and Kyle had Banana Nut Cheerios, both of them enjoying their respective cereals in the dim lighting of the uncomfortably hushed night. 'Somehow stale cereal just tastes better when you enjoy it with your Super Best Friend.' _

_Kyle sighed again, licking his spoon absentmindedly as he once again eyed Stan in that non-too-conspicuous way. _

_"Mn." Stan swallowed a mouthful of his sugary treat before speaking. "The sexual tension is crazy, huh?" His face was poised, but he was pinching the bridge of his nose in that too smart, too cute way that he did when he was either annoyed or stressed about whatever predicament he'd landed himself in. It was times like these that reminded Kyle that his "Super Best Friend" wasn't as dumb as he acted. _

_Politically and environmentally aware, football playing Stanley Marsh with his sexy-ass face and shirtless-ness and-_

_Kyle jerked his eyes away from Stan's toned body, feeling his brain-cells dying off just thinking about it, not to mention the pool of saliva collecting in his mouth at the dirty, hormonal thoughts breaking though the unblocked crevices of his mind, was threatening to leak._

_Two whole years of open sexual tension can do that to a person…_

_He half wished he was shirtless too, just so he would feel less self-conscious, but he figured it would only help to add to the building embarrassed, and slightly angry, blush coating his cheeks. He knew if he tried to lie Stan would see through it in a second, and that both disappointed and thrilled him beyond belief. He opted for something neutral, if not slightly off topic:_

_"You're more appealing when you keep your mouth shut." He deadpanned, though it was only half joking. In all truth, he wasn't sure if he was relieved that Stan had broken the already awkward silence between them, or angry at his blunt address to a subject they'd agreed never to speak on, just to increase the painful discomfort that lingered just behind -what had seemed to be- closed doors._

_They both looked awkwardly down at their bowls, trying to ignore the fact that they're a hair's breadth from their elbows brushing, Kyle glaring down into his own milk-reflected expression in the porcelain bowl below him, like a magic crystal ball with all the answers. It's like any other awkward moment between them, and despite the promise they made, both knew that things could never go back to normal. Whatever "normal" was..._

_"You want to..." Stan trails off, "You want to -uh- y'know I was thinking maybe-"_

_Kyle stood up, walking over to the sink, careful not to accidently brush any part of himself against any part of Stan. He could practically feel Stan's incandescent gaze boring into him and filling him with the most pungent mixture of hot and cold that he's nearly shivering. His legs go numb at the sensation and he unconsciously gripped the sink just to be sure he was still standing. He dropped his bowl in the process, though luckily for him it landed in the sink, the loud 'clang' it made rising him out of his stupor._

_He could hear the chair creak and those all-immersing irises finally release him from their death grip._

_Was that what their friendship had become? Sidestepping and avoiding? What happened to the honest and innocent times?_

_Kyle sighed for what felt like the one millionth time that night, though this time the sentiments behind it were different, even a bit resigned, "Listen Stanley." He spun to face him, leaned back against the sink, chewing over his next words carefully, though he would never get the chance to say them...and for some reason that suited him just fine._

_"Kyle...Ky..." Stan stood, hands doing that familiar twitchy thing that Kyle wouldn't realize until much later was a sign that he was eager to fondle. "Just one kiss. And if you don't feel anything..."_

_Kyle pursed his lips, harlequin-green eyes narrowing. _

_All at once, he gripped the sides of Stan's head, shyly poking his tongue out to lick Stan's chin, then releasing him. _

_There was silence. Then-_

_Stan laughed. And laughed. Practically gripping his sides he was laughing so Goddamn hard._

_Kyle glared at him, "Fuck you, Stan."_

_Stan's laughter finally died down after a moment or two longer, "W-what the Hell was that?"_

_"It's because I'm..." He swallowed, not wanting to sound like a complete pussy in front of one of the few people he gave a shit about, if not the person he probably 'gave a shit' about more than anyone. More than he probably should have in any case... _

_"I'm afraid."_

_Stan's hazel eyes searched his, face suddenly becoming serious, "Ky..."_

_"What if I don't feel anything...?" And more importantly, what if you don't? "I don't want things to change."_

_Stan sighed, echoing Kyle only moments before, "Dude. As fucking cliche as this is gonna sound: things have already changed...and if you didn't want things to change you wouldn't like me in the first place."_

'Stan can read me like a book...but I suppose that's a good thing.'

_He smiles. "Fine. You're an idiot...but I trust you."_

_Stan walked closer, then leaned in until their noses bumped. "Ready?"_

_Kyle closed his eyes taking in a deep, slow breath and...and he slipped out from between Stan and the counter, running into the living room. He clicked off the video game they'd been playing earlier, telling himself that the theme song was getting annoying, but knowing he was just putting off the inevitable. _

_When he returned Stan had a brow raised, leaning where Kyle was just moments before, "You done?"_

_Kyle wanted to make a snappy comeback, but bit it back, already feeling like a bit of a jackass. _

_"I'm ready."_

_He walks over to Stan, leaning his hip on the counter beside him, feeling Stan's arm_

_brush his. _

_"Ok."_

_Stan turns to face him. They're about the same height so it makes it easier to make eye contact, each of them being a good six feet tall. Everything aligned so perfectly. Eye to eye; chest to chest; hips to hips._

_So when they kissed it felt natural, eyes meeting, chests brushing, and hips fitting together just so as their lips move in sync with what is half experience and half a part of that amazing puzzle that is their bodies meeting and tongues entwining and everything in between._

_When they parted they were still staring at each other, and words are caught there in that space still left between them where their breath mingled and warmed each other's lips._

_Stan finally laughed, a deep sort of rumbling in his chest, and rather than find it annoying, this time, Kyle found himself soothed and a little excited, "I think...I think we're going to be ok..."_

_**LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL.**_

Kenny sighed, glancing at the platinum blonde across from him. They sat at a booth in a totally cliché 1960's diner, containing only them and a few truckers. It'd been nearly two days since they started their journey and he still wasn't quite sure if he was headed in the right direction. Not that it mattered really. He wasn't in any rush to reach his final destination, especially with Butters's money, there was enough extra that he could afford to take his time.

Not to mention enough money to turn tail and head straight back to South Park…in any case…

"Butters." He growled, pushing his burger aside, fed up with the silent treatment that he _so _didn't deserve. After all, he was giving the kid a free ride, wasn't he? Well…not exactly _free._

The other's bright blue eyes glanced up at him, looking dazed in that scary way where a person is scared to be caught thinking about something or other, but can't stop themselves from it. He got this response every time he's tried to talk to him, and usually would just shut up right then and there and pretend like he'd never said anything in the first place. Whenever he got that look, he couldn't help feeling as though he'd interrupted a holy priest from some great meditation….or whatever…

"Um…" He stuttered, suddenly uncomfortable, "Come with me." He stood up, reaching out his hand, though he wasn't sure why, so he pulled it back. Butters didn't seem to notice, still in that half-dazed state, with a touch of wariness flickering there where he didn't think it was visible.

Kenny turned around and headed out the front door, slipping into an alleyway, 'slyly' glancing over his shoulder to see if Butters was still following. _He was._ Not that it didn't make him feel like any less of a creeper. _'Yes, little boy follow me into the alleyway…want some candy? That's right keep licking till you get to the creamy white center.'_

"Yummy." He laughed a little at the joke, feeling somewhat like a sex-depraved lunatic.

"I'm sorry…what?"

Kenny jumped at the voice, nearly forgetting his counterpart; after all, he hadn't spoken the whole trip. Well, not unless he had to pee, and even then it was more of an utterance than anything.

"_What?"_

"Never mind."

Kenny pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and then offered one to his soft-spoken tagalong.

Butters shook his head, but he pushed the cigarette up to his mouth, insistently, "C'mon man, you could use one."

He hesitantly puckered his lips, taking the cigarette…then spit it out onto the ground and stomped on it with his white and powder blue Nikes, shaking his head again more fervently. He covered his nose and pulled a face, scooting away from Kenny against the wall.

Kenny rolled his eyes and threw the cig down stomping it out. _'I fucking hate this._ _I just wasted two perfectly good cigarettes on this prick.'_

"_What?"_ Kenny growled, "Fucking pussy, one cigarette won't kill you!"

Butters eyes flashed with something Kenny knew fondly as the 'you don't know me' look. He'd seen it plastered all over Kyle's face just days before, so it was fresh in his mind.

"Ugh. Talk." He pushed away from the wall, shouting now, and annoyed for reasons he could only assume were the lack of tobacco in his system and need for a decent conversation. "_Talk!_ For _Christ's-sake_ open your_ Goddamn_ mouth and…and…_make words!"_

He breathed deeply in and out, eyes wide and red with lack of sleep and anger. He wanted to punch the kid in the face, but held back, knowing it would do no good, and trying with great difficulty to calm himself.

Butters's eyes filled with what looked like hesitance, but could just as easily have been fear, "I…"

Kenny stared at him, struck with awe at his next words, and unable to find the right words to respond, much less retaliate. So he just stood there clueless as Butters quickly brushed past him to the car, not looking back once to see his reaction.

"_I'm Pregnant."_

_**LOLOLOLOLLOLOLOLOL.**_

DUNDUNDUN.

I know it seems kind of soon, but Kenny hasn't actually figured it out yet...you'll see once I finish up the next chapter. XD I hope people are actually reading this cause I'm starting to feel lame...

PLZ READ AND REVIEW!

~Riba Bian


End file.
